I’m stretched and warped and tilted just so,

In a carnival hall where the oddities glow.

They laugh, they scream, they point, they flee—

But not one ever really looks at me.

I am the Funhouse, warped and wide,

With no soul of my own, just what steps inside.

A giggle here—a waif-like waist,

A sob when a nose takes up half a face.

“Wow, I look amazing!” says one with delight,

Then another storms o...